


Doubt Not That I Love

by EmilyScarlett



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: British spelling, But no actual murder, Endless fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Stealing, because it's Montparnasse, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyScarlett/pseuds/EmilyScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Montparnasse is hopelessly enamoured with Jehan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doubt Not That I Love

**Author's Note:**

> For a kink meme prompt:  
> "Basically, I want hopelessly, desperately, ridiculously, stupidly in love Montparnasse. 
> 
> I want every night he spends alone being filled with visions of the man he adores. I want him to trip over himself to be the best he can be around Jehan. I want him willing to kill people on his love's whim (if he ever asks). I want him stealing presents. I want him kissing Jehan's hand. I want him to try and be the smoothest motherfucker whenever Jehan is looking. I want him doing everything in his power to ensure that he will love him, and only him, forever.
> 
> And I'd like it if they've already been in a relationship for 2+ years.
> 
> Also, he's still super good at killing people/doing criminal stuff, but it's kind of a *stabs victim, wonders if Jehan is thinking of him, sighs dreamily, goes through victim's pockets* sort of thing."
> 
> I'd meant to write this for a while but didn't know how. Then I overhead a horrible conversation while I was out and I bought a plant, and suddenly I knew how.
> 
> So, in honour of my new plant, which I have named Jehan.

If someone had told Montparnasse two years ago that he’d end up completely wrapped around the finger of an adorable little poet, he’d probably have slit their throat before they’d finished speaking. Yet there he was, anxiously staring at the back of Jehan’s head because his lover seemed unhappy and he was afraid it might be because of him. He couldn’t particularly think of anything that he’d done wrong but his lover was obviously distressed and he couldn’t bear the thought that he was to blame.

 

Jehan was currently making tea, in the hurried, almost feverish way he did when something was really bothering him. Montparnasse approached him carefully.

“Love? Is everything alright?” Jehan put the teapot down rather abruptly, turned around and pressed his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. Montparnasse gently returned his embrace.

“Sorry,” Jehan mumbled, the word muffled against his shirt. Then, to Montparnasse’s horror, he started to cry.

“Hush,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his love’s forehead. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, love?” He’d make it better, he promised to himself. Whatever it was, whatever he had to do to fix it; he’d make it better.

 

“Sorry,” Jehan whispered again, as if he had anything to apologise for. “There was a man in the book shop today. Cosette was helping him and he started to flirt with her. He asked her out and she rejected him, of course. She even said she had a boyfriend, as if she had to justify saying no. He was horrible.” Here Jehan sobbed before regaining enough composure to continue. “He shouted for ages, screamed really. Then he called her a ‘stupid cunt’ and walked out.” Jehan sobbed again and pushed his face further into Montparnasse’s shoulder. It always upset him, Montparnasse knew, to see people being unkind. His love was such an optimistic soul that he believed that people generally tried to be good. Hell, he even believed that Montparnasse was good, in his own way. And it hurt him to see something that disproved that.

 

“I’ll kill him,” Montparnasse whispered. “If that would make you happy again. Whatever you want.”

“No,” Jehan replied mournfully, though he didn’t push him away as Montparnasse sometimes feared he would, when his profession was brought up. It remained a constant source of wonder to him that Jehan never did, that he accepted him, that he loved him. He did everything he could to try to deserve that love.

 

He gently led Jehan to his favourite chair and then finished making the tea. It had taken him a while to learn how to make it as Jehan liked it. Jehan had patiently sipped his way through dozens of frankly awful cups of tea, never complaining once. He presented his love with a cup that he knew was just right, not too weak, sweetened but not sickening. Then he knelt down in front of Jehan, so that their faces were level, and took his free hand.

“Tell me what to do to make it better,” he said solemnly.

“I just- I can’t stop this from happening. I can’t re-educate everyone and I hate it. I feel so powerless.”

“My love, you are anything but powerless. You have Paris’ most infamous murderer at your beck and call. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. You need a politician threatening? I’m your guy. Some celebrity saying stuff you don’t like? Just give me a name. You didn’t like how someone looked at you today? Say the word. Seriously, my love, you literally hold the power of life and death in your hands. You are anything but powerless.”

 

He knew Jehan would never have him kill someone for anything as petty as a personal grievance, but there had been occasions when his services had been required to sway a vote or change a political stance.

“Thank you,” whispered Jehan, pressing his hand to Montparnasse’s cheek. “Come cuddle with me?”

“You’ll have to get up then,” said Montparnasse, knowing exactly what Jehan meant. Jehan stood up to let him sit down. As soon as he was settled Jehan all but crawled into his lap, laying his head against his chest and clutching his tea.

“There,” Montparnasse whispered, “everything’s going to be alright.” Jehan nodded and curled up further into his lover’s chest. Montparnasse was content to hold him like this, keeping him safe and close until his love felt better.

 

 

* * *

  

 

The next day Montparnasse found himself wandering around the city center, not particularly paying attention. He was finding it difficult to look for likely targets in the crowd since his mind seemed unwilling to stray too far from Jehan. His lover had the afternoon shift today and subsequently they had both spent the morning curled up in bed. Their bed had the thickest duvet they could find and far too any pillows, both curtesy of Jehan. Still, as much as Montparnasse whined and complained about it, he wouldn’t actually want to change a single thing about it. It made his love happy, and that was that.

 

Jehan had looked adorable, swathed in the duvet with pillows piled high around him. Just his face peeking out, blinking sleepily up at him as he’d tried to get up. The protesting whine that Jehan had emitted had been enough to convince him to relent and crawl back into bed so that his lover could curl up against his chest and fall back to sleep.

 

The only problem was that now he couldn’t think of anything else and he was trying to work for a living here! Well, trying to make a living at least. He was about to give up for the day when a trinket in a little side shop caught his eye. A skull shaped flower pot. He knew Jehan would love it; he had to get it for him.

 

It wasn’t difficult to take. The shop was tiny, attended by one bored teenage girl who barely looked up when he entered. It didn’t even have cameras!  He picked up something random off the shelf.

“Hey, do you have this in red,” he asked, waving the item. A hand painted fan, it seemed.

“I doubt it,” said the girl, finally looking at him. She seemed a little stunned by what she saw. “We only tend to stock one of a kind things.”

“I don’t suppose you could check for me, could you,” he asked, offering his most charming smile. “It’s for my mother.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just-” She disappeared off into the back room and Montparnasse disappeared from the shop, flower pot in hand.

 

Of course, he couldn’t just present the flower pot to Jehan without flowers in it. What kind of boyfriend would that make him? He headed towards the garden center since he knew Jehan objected to cut flowers. He saw it as unnecessary flower killing. Admittedly, he was a little out of his depth here. He successfully found the indoor plants section but from there all he had to go on were colours. One particularly caught his eye. White flowers with red around the edges, bright and perfect for Jehan. He read the name. _Amaryllis Minerva,_ whatever that meant.

 

Moving it from the generic pot it was already in to the skull pot was a little tricky, but he managed it in the end. From then it was easy. All he had to was walk out of the center as though he had every right to. The tag to trigger the electric sensors was on the pot he’d discarded, because who would ever steal just a plant? He laughed to himself.

 

Jehan was completely enamoured with his gift, kissing him in thanks and then practically cooing over the plant and immediately clearing a place on the windowsill. He named it Andre, and even made a colourful label to put on the back of the pot. Montparnasse was hopelessly charmed.

 

Seriously, how had he even found someone so completely, totally good. Jehan was so much more than he deserved, and he swore to himself right then that he would never do anything to make Jehan regret being with him. He’d be the most loving, devoted boyfriend he could, because that’s what Jehan deserved, and there was no way that Montparnasse would ever give him less than that.

**Author's Note:**

> So please let me know what you think.
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr now, so come say hello:  
> amiedelabaisse.tumblr.com


End file.
